'Lucky to make it back': World War II gunner recalls near-fatal mission on B-17

May 6, 2011 11:00 PM

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On his next-to-last bombing mission in World War II, William F. Clark prayed like never before.

"You better believe it," he said. "I think everybody on the crew was praying. We were lucky to make it back."

After dropping their bombs on a railroad trestle, anti-aircraft flak riddled their B-17 over Magdeburg, Germany, knocking out two of the plane's four engines. One shell exploded under the front of the plane, shattering the Plexiglas on the front-gunner's turret and ripping a hole in a gas tank on the left wing.

"There was a stream of gas coming out as big as my arm and covering the back of the plane," Clark said. "If they had shot one more time, they would have ignited that gas and got us. If our pilot had made an erratic turn and swished the gas onto a hot exhaust, it would have blown us up right there."

Clark, the tailgunner, informed the first engineer, who transferred the remaining gas to another tank. That proved crucial to the 10-man crew's survival.

"We threw everything loose we could get out of the plane to lighten the load, except the guns," Clark said.

One engine on the right side strained at maximum power. The working engine on the left side had partial power. The pilot managed to level the plane and stay within sight of the bombing group.

"We were trying to make it back to Western France," Clark said. That was friendly territory, and the men snapped on their parachutes in case they had to bail out.

Instead, the shuddering plane limped back to base over Sudbury, England, and the crew braced for a hard landing.

"We were gritting our teeth and praying," Clark said.

One tire was flat, so the pilot touched the runway on the good tire and held the plane in that position as long as he could. Then he eased it down onto the bare wheel, which spun the plane. By then, the speed was slow enough to keep the plane from overturning.

When it stopped, the crew rushed to the door and ran from the plane.

"We all let out a holler and gave the pilot a big thank you," Clark said. "It was a miracle we made it home from that mission. When we landed that day, we had 20 gallons of gas left in the tank. Twenty gallons won't carry you very far in a plane that size."

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Flak ripped 196 holes in the plane, Clark said, and a major overhaul was needed. A partial wing, four gas tanks, four engines, two tires, the Plexiglas and some wiring had to be replaced. Clark learned later that when the plane went back into service, it crashed on its second mission, killing the crew.

The members of Clark's crew all returned home safely, and he credits the sturdy B-17 Flying Fortress for their survival. Clark's first 24 missions were flown in a B-24 Liberator. His last five missions were in a B-17.

"If we hadn't been switched over, I wouldn't be talking to you," Clark said. "I don't think the B-24 would have ever made it back on that mission."

Still, there was little celebrating after their close call on Aug. 5, 1944, because one more mission was necessary before the crew could return home.

Just a farm boy

Clark's home was in Crockett County, where he farmed with his parents and graduated from Alamo High School in 1941.

Drafted in January 1943, he did basic training in Florida and specialized training in Kansas, Texas, Utah and Arizona, where flight crews were introduced to the B-24.

Clark was assigned to the 486th Bombardment Group of the Eighth Air Force. His crew arrived in Sudbury, England, about 30 miles north of London, in March 1944.

Clark was nervous when the crew flew its first mission on May 20, 1944, dropping bombs on German positions at Liege, Belgium.

"You didn't know what you were going to get into," he said. "But it was pretty well just business. There was some flak, but nothing like it was going to be later."

On one mission, Clark's heated flight suit caught fire on his left elbow. He quickly took the suit off.

"If we hadn't had a couple of heavy blankets to put around me, I'd have froze," he said. "It was 56 degrees below zero most of the time when we were flying at an altitude of 18,000 to 20,000 feet."

"One or two times we went down to 16,000 feet," he said, "but anything below that was out of the question. The Germans' heavy guns could reach us."

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His longest mission in the B-24 was on May 29, 1944. It took eight hours and 13 minutes to complete a run over an oil refinery at Politz, Germany.

Clark's crew often flew on consecutive days, such as June 6, 7 and 8, 1944. D-Day was June 6, and his crew flew over German positions in France that day but did not get to drop its bombs.

"We were at 16,000 feet, but it was overcast, and we couldn't see our targets," he said. "We wanted to go down lower, but they wouldn't let us."

After D-Day, members of Clark's crew flew almost daily until mid-July. They needed 30 missions to complete their quota and go home. The number was reduced by one if the crew would purchase a $1,000 war bond.

"That's what we did," Clark said. "All 10 of us paid $100 each. It was worth it."

After its harrowing experience over Magdeburg, the crew waited nine days before flying its final mission on Aug. 14, 1944, over the factories in Mannheim, Germany. All went well, and the crew was excited when the plane returned safely.

"It was a great relief," Clark said.

He knows how fortunate his crew was to have never been attacked by German fighters. He never had to fire his machine guns in defense of the plane.

"We saw the fighters at a distance several times, but they never attacked our group," he said.

Coming home

About a week after the last mission, Clark got on a ship and sailed to Boston, a bit disappointed that he didn't get to fly home.

He rode a train to St. Louis, where he visited a cousin, then made it back to the farm, three miles outside Alamo. His parents, Clem and Ada Clark, were waiting.

"That was a good one," Clark said of the homecoming. "It had been a little over two years since I had seen them."

His mother prepared one of his favorite meals, a breakfast of sausage, country eggs, biscuits, home-churned butter, sorghum molasses and cold milk from the family cows.

It was September 1944, and Clark spent about a week at home before reporting for stateside duty. He describes it as "a year of riding the rails" from one post to another. He was discharged in October 1945, soon after the war ended in Japan.

During a furlough, he married Robbie Robertson of Crockett County on March 24, 1945. After his discharge, they moved to Jackson and never left. They have a daughter and two sons.

Clark had done carpentry work before the war, and he resumed that profession when he returned home.

"I tried to find something different, but nothing paid anything," he said. "So I went back to driving nails."

Clark, who is 87, worked on nearly every building in downtown Jackson after the war and remained in the carpentry business for more than 45 years.

He is proud of his military service, believing it probably made him a better man.

"It changes you, all right," he said. "It either makes you go crazy or settles you down."